


A Winning Hand

by mizface



Series: Winning Hand [1]
Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2011-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unflappable butler Benton Fraser faithfully serves the Turnbull family, as did his father, and his father before him. But when the dithering heir to the Turnbull fortune (their cheeses are world-renowned) loses him in a game of chance, he has no choice but to serve a new master... Raimundo Vecchio.</p><p>Unsure of his new situation, and exactly what is expected of him, Fraser finds an ally in the form of the Vecchios' chauffeur, Ray Kowalski. Can Fraser make a place for himself in the Vecchio household? Can he keep out of reach of Raimundo's sweet, lonely sister, Francesca? Should he acknowledge his growing feelings for Kowalski? And what will he do when Renfield Turnbull shows up demanding a rematch to win back his services?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Winning Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: The ~~blame for~~ thanks for this story go to dessert_first and nos4a2no9, and a _Schmarlequin thread_ that prompted this ~~madness~~ 1920's romance novel-style AU. And nos4a2no9 and waltzforanight (betas extraordinaire) are responsible for pretty much every adjective present, as well as making sure I did some research to make this a richer world. If it is, thank them; if it isn’t, it’s all me.
> 
> Please note that anonymous commenting has been disabled, as I have no desire for this or any of my fics to become a place for negativity or pairing bashing. _due South_ is a happy place for me, and I intend to keep it that way. Everyone is welcome to their opinion, of course, but if you don't like what you're reading, that's what the Back button is for. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcomed; angry assumptions about me as a writer and my feelings toward the show or its characters is not.
> 
> Thank you kindly.

“I know this is quite a shock, Fraser, but I can’t go back on my word. I still think that man was cheating – my hand should have won the round easily.” Renfield Turnbull, Fraser’s suddenly former employer, spoke with heartfelt conviction, and while Fraser had little reason to doubt he meant every word, he also knew the young man’s woeful lack of ability with card games of any sort.

He didn’t let any of his feelings show, of course – years of his father’s demanding lessons had taught him that. “Never let them know how you feel, son. That’s the first rule of being a great butler. We have no opinions.” And while Fraser knew full well that his father was anything _but_ impartial, he also knew the man followed that code to the letter while he was on duty. He could do no less. Fraser men had been butlers for generations, these last three in service to the same family. Until now, of course.

Fraser waited in silence for Turnbull to continue, but he seemed genuinely distraught at the circumstances, enough so that Fraser felt compelled to speak.

“I’m sure it will be fine, sir,” he began, though to be honest he was too flabbergasted to feel much of anything at the moment. “You gave your word, and I can do no less. I will, of course, begin packing immediately. I would never do anything to besmirch your honor.”

Turnbull looked almost pathetically grateful at that. “I knew you’d understand, Fraser. You’re taking this much better than Father will.” Of that, Fraser had no doubt; Turnbull the elder’s temper was a well-known fact, as was his disappointment in his son, who seemed more at home at a garden party or in the kitchen than in running the family business. At least he’d be spared hearing _that_ conversation, or dealing with its fallout.

Fraser inclined his head. “If I might have your permission to begin gathering my things then, sir? I take it I’ll be leaving for my new employer’s residence in short order.”

Turnbull waved a hand in his general direction. “Of course, of course. You’re right – someone should be here for you later today, I think.”

Fraser nodded and turned to leave the parlor, the move hiding his surprise. He would be departing much sooner than expected. Given his meager belongings, and the fact that they were in Chicago on a business trip and therefore he was mostly packed already, preparing to leave should be an easy enough task to accomplish.

Once in his room, he used the activity of packing to ignore his unease at the situation. It wasn’t just leaving the employ of a family his had served for generations, though that in itself was enough to unsettle a man, as was the fact that this left his charge alone in an unfamiliar city. Nor was it the manner by which Fraser had gained the new appointment, though that too was disturbing. Even the fact that leaving meant he would no longer have free access to the marvelous cheeses that had built the Turnbull fortune was but a footnote to his agitation.

What bothered him most was that this turn of events meant staying in Chicago, a city he had no real knowledge of, and very little experience in, as they’d only arrived a few days prior. It was a far cry from the Turnbull estate in Canada. He’d never seen buildings so tall, nor had he been around so many people in quite some time. It was disconcerting enough as a visitor, and he’d been looking quite forward to the end of this trip, and a return to the Turnbull household. The relative peace and familiar surroundings of the estate had been key reasons in his decision to follow in his father’s footsteps, after all. He’d had more than enough excitement during her service in the Great War; working for the Turnbull family nearly guaranteed him the solitude and simplicity he’d craved after returning home.

Now that option was gone, the choice taken from him. He could only hope that his new employer lived outside of the city proper.

 

The car and driver arrived promptly at 5pm, and Fraser climbed into the backseat feeling more than a little numb. He realized with a start that he hadn’t even asked his new employer’s name. For that matter, he didn’t know anything about the situation into which he was headed. Oh dear. He felt eyes on him, and looked up to see the driver watching him in the rearview mirror.

“Hiya,” the man said, a smile evident in his voice. “How you doing back there?”

“I’m fine, thank you kindly. However, I’m afraid I’m at a bit of a loss. I apologize for not asking sooner, but might I know your name, Mister…?”

The man chuckled. “Yeah, you did look a little glassy-eyed when I got you. It’s just Ray – I hear Mister and I’ll start looking for my old man. I’m the handyman, mechanic, and back-up chauffer for the Vecchios.”

Fraser filed that information away as he took in what little of his new co-worker’s appearance that he could see. Ray was wearing a chauffer’s uniform, the traditional cap sitting a little crookedly on his head, the top button of the high-necked black jacket undone, which bared the back of his neck. The skin there was tanned and slightly freckled, and Fraser found his gaze settling there. It was the only part of Ray that he could really see, and less unsettling than the piercing blue-green eyes watching him in the rear-view mirror.

“You’re the new butler, Benton Fraser, right?” Ray had gone on without waiting for an answer. Which was fortunate for Fraser, as that meant Ray hadn’t noticed he’d been woolgathering. “Hope you know your stuff, ‘cause the boss is kinda particular. Not that he knows what a butler is and isn’t supposed to do, mind you, but you did not hear that from me.”

Now that was interesting. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “It’s just – from what I hear, the family you worked for is old money, right? Had people working for them for years.”

Fraser nodded, a bit surprised that Ray knew anything about his employment history. “Yes. My family has worked for the Turnbulls for generations.”

“Okay then, so good, that means you know your stuff. Well, the Vecchios are new money, and act like it. Spending cash left and right, trying to look like they fit in with all the blue bloods. That’s why the boss was willing to let the kid use you as a marker.”

“Ah, I see. So I’m to be another sign of wealth, then.”

“Exactly. And you knowing your stuff will help smooth things over for the boss and his family. Make them look more legit.”

Fraser heard something in that he wasn’t sure he liked. “Are the Vecchios involved in things that would lessen their legitimacy?”

Ray’s gaze in the mirror was suddenly piercing, and Fraser wondered why the question would cause such a reaction. But then Ray relaxed, the moment passed, and Fraser was left wondering if he’d imagined it.

“Depends on what you mean. As far as the law is concerned, Vecchio’s an honest businessman who’s made some good investments.” He paused, then seemed to decide something and went on. “Best if you go along with that line of thinking, and don’t ask too many questions. You wonder about anything, you come to me, and I’ll set you straight if I can.”

Fraser was taken aback at the generosity of the offer. This man hardly knew him. “I very much appreciate that, Ray. I do feel quite out of place already, and I’ve not even met the family yet.”

“Yeah, well like I said, with the boss just do your job and stick to that and nothing else. As for the rest… Maria and her husband Tony shouldn’t be any trouble, except for the part where they’re always around. Mrs. Vecchio – she’s the, what’s the word – madrigal of the house.”

Fraser did his best not to smile. “Do you mean matriarch, perhaps?”

“Whatever. She’s nice enough. Doesn’t try to put on airs, still wants to be in charge of the kitchen.” He waved a hand. “The one you have to watch out for is the boss’s little sister, Francesca.”

“Why is that?”

“She was at an all-girl school until recently, and now that she’s back in the Windy City she’s a little man-crazy. The boss is pretty protective of her, so I’d just make sure you’re never in anything that might even kind of look like a compromising position, if you get my drift.”

“I appreciate the advice, Ray, but I would never take advantage of an employer’s trust.”

“It isn’t you who’d be taking the advantage. Trust me. And the boss has enough hired muscle to back up any threats, real or not. You’ll see them around too – boss calls them the Duck Brothers, because if you see them coming you’d better duck for cover. To the rest of us schmoes they’re Huey, Dewey and Gardino.”

The car slowed, and Fraser took note of the surroundings. They stopped at a set of gates, beyond which lay a house that spoke of ostentation. It was three stories tall, with high, peaked roofs with several chimneys, and huge windows on each floor, each elaborately shuttered. Four Corinthian columns framed the entrance, which had stairs leading up to the massive front doors. A balcony overlooked the entrance, and while Fraser couldn’t see the rest of the building from this angle, he was sure there would be similar balconies overlooking the back, and likely extensive gardens there as well.

The grounds were meticulously kept, with greenery lining the drive in the form of flowering trees and neatly trimmed bushes.

Despite the care that had obviously been taken, the estate had a feeling of newness to it that Fraser couldn’t help but notice, and he began to see what Ray meant by Fraser being able to legitimize the family with the upper crust. While he never indulged in gossip, he couldn’t help but overhear a great deal of it, and one thing he heard time and again was that there was nothing more looked down upon than the _nouveau riche_.

“This is the place,” Ray said as the gates were opened and he started toward the circular drive in front of the mansion. “The boss has an apartment in the city, spends a lot of time there, but here’s where you’ll be camped out.” He peered back at Fraser. “This what you’re used to?”

Fraser gave a non-committal shrug; it wouldn’t do to make his opinion known one way or the other. “It’s quite impressive,” he decided was a safe enough answer.

Ray snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, if you like big and overdone.” Fraser couldn’t help but be startled, and Ray chuckled at his expression.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong – I like this job. But if it were me and I had all that dough, I’d find better ways to spend it than on a house that’d fit a whole neighborhood, that I needed a whole bunch of people just to take care of. We-” and he gestured to indicate the two of them, “outnumber the family by a lot – people to cook and clean and drive and keep up the place. Seems like a waste of money to me, but who am I, right?”

Fraser understood what Ray was saying. He knew from experience that a property of this size did indeed require quite a bit of upkeep, and while it might seem a waste, it did keep people employed. Perhaps the money the Vecchio family might well be put to far better uses; it wasn’t his place to say so. His father’s training was too deeply ingrained. He made sure none of what he thought showed on his face and hoped his non-committal manner wasn’t too off-putting; Ray had already been an invaluable help to him. The information he’d shared would help him settle in much faster. Fraser considered himself a good judge of character, and his instincts told him to trust the man, never mind that they had just met.

If his instincts told him any more, well, he decided that it was probably best not to heed them. While he generally got along with everyone with whom he worked, his friendships had been few and far between. The distance that served him best professionally bled over into his personal life and while it was lonely at times, he was accustomed to it. This feeling he had about Ray – that he might be not only a potential ally but a _friend_ – was unexpected. But not, he realized with a bit of surprise, unwelcome.

Ray pulled the car up and got out, motioning for Fraser to stay where he was. “Let me do my job here, okay?” he said quietly, his demeanor now quite different from just a few moments prior. Fraser nodded, and let Ray get the door for him.

“Here we are, Fraser. I’ll get your bags and follow you in. Mr. Vecchio asked that you wait just inside, and someone will let him know you’re here.” The tone was professional, polite and totally unlike the affable man he’d just spent time with. It started to worry him, until Ray leaned over as Fraser got out of the car and whispered, “Thanks for going along, Benton buddy. Gotta make sure I look good, in case anyone’s watching.”

Fraser gave the barest nod to let Ray know he’d heard and understood. “Thank you kindly, Ray. And for the fine ride here as well – I’ve not had a smoother trip.” He hesitated, then decided to go on, quieter. “And I’ll certainly keep everything you’ve said in mind.” That said, steeling himself inwardly, Fraser walked up the stairs and opened the door to his new appointment.

 

Once inside Fraser introduced himself to someone he hoped wasn’t under his jurisdiction. The man’s suit was garish, his curly hair unkempt, and his manners atrocious. He warned Fraser to “stay where you are,” before moving away at a quick pace. Interesting. So promptness was of high value here; that was good to know.

Fraser stayed in the foyer, taking everything in. As he’d expected from his conversation with Ray, the interior of the house was quite opulent. The floors and stairs were marble, the staircase railing gilded in gold. An elaborate chandelier was centered in the foyer ceiling, its crystals gleaming, Fraser was pleased to note. It meant at least some of the long-term upkeep was being maintained.

He was turning to glance at a few of the paintings gracing the walls when he heard a door open. The man walking toward him was obviously master of the house; it showed in the confident way he moved, and in the almost possessive way he looked at Fraser. He was younger than Fraser had expected, mid- to late- thirties at his estimate. He was near Fraser’s height, though of a slighter build, his dark hair cut close to the scalp.

Impeccably dressed, his charcoal gray suit looked to be high quality and no doubt was the latest fashion. The only hint of color showing was in the brightly patterned tie and matching pocket silk.

Fraser politely waited in silence, pretending not to notice he was under similar scrutiny.

“So,” the man started, “you’re the guy I won from that Cheese Baron kid last night.” He nodded his approval, though at what, exactly, Fraser had no clue.

“I am, sir. Benton Fraser, at your service.”

Mr. Vecchio’s smile made Fraser feel slightly uncomfortable. “At my service. I like that. What do you think, Gardino?” he called back to the man who’d gone to announce his presence.

“Should add some class to the place, boss,” Gardino said, then went on hurriedly, “Not that the place isn’t real classy already, of course.”

Mr. Vecchio nodded as if he expected no other answer, and that was another vital piece of information. Not that Fraser would ever think of contradicting an employer, even if asked for his honest opinion, but by the relief on Gardino’s face, to do so here could actually be dangerous. Oh dear – what kind of place was this?

“So, Benny – you don’t mind if I call you that, right?” Fraser wasn’t even given a chance to respond. Not that he would have, of course, even though he actually _did_ mind. “So, Benny, I figure you’re new here, and by here I mean the US of A, not just my place, so for the first few days I’ll cut you some slack, just ‘til you get used to the routine here, mind you. So you go on, do your thing your way, change it up when you see this place operates. That work for you?”

Despite the querying framework, Fraser knew an order when he heard one. “Of course, sir. Thank you kindly for your patience.”

Mr. Vecchio waved his hand magnanimously. “Not a problem. You watch, you learn, you’ll get along here fine.”

“And if you have any questions, just let me know,” a female voice interjected from above. Fraser glanced up, noting his employer’s scowl at the words, and made sure his gaze looked nothing but blandly polite.

“Frannie, you do not need to be helping out here. No fraternizing with the help, remember?” Ah, so this was the Francesca of whom Ray had spoken. She was quite attractive, slim, with short, dark hair, wearing a modest amount of cosmetics that highlighted her eyes and bone structure. She was dressed in such a way as to accent her figure, and gracefully made her way down the stairs in high-heeled shoes that looked at the least uncomfortable, and at the most hazardous to walk in.

She noticed his regard and met his eyes, smiling at him in a way that would make him nervous even if he weren’t, by way of extension, in her employ.

After a long moment she turned her attention to Mr. Vecchio, pouting fairly convincingly, and Fraser gathered from their interplay that she was quite used to getting her way. He had no doubt that while she was agreeing with everything Mr. Vecchio was saying, she was simultaneously figuring out a way to get around what he demanded to get what she wanted. He made a mental note to never find himself alone in her company.

She walked around her brother to get closer to him, and Fraser realized he’d have to do something to defuse the situation.

“Miss Vecchio, while your offer is exceedingly generous, I wouldn’t like to bother you with unnecessary questions. I find it’s best to learn the workings of a new household by doing, rather than talking.”

That said, he looked past her, hoping to reinforce the distance between their stations. Mr. Vecchio’s expression hinted at a smile, and Fraser was glad to see it. This household had its share of landmines to avoid, and he had no desire to find them all on his first day.

 

Over the next few days Fraser found himself grateful for his quick learning curve. The house and grounds were large, and the layout rather complicated.

The staff, though not quite what he was used to, were good at their jobs, and seemed genuinely appreciative of his leadership, rather than resentful of an intruder. And there were some immediate modifications he could see that would benefit both them and the family. While there had been good work done with day-to-day upkeep, for example, for the most part no real long-term schedule had been set regarding overall maintenance of the house. Fraser quickly set that to rights, adding to the daily routine some weekly tasks that would make things run more smoothly.

As Ray had told him, the rest of the Vecchios had turned out to be nothing to worry about. Mrs. Vecchio, whom he could not bring himself to call ‘Ma’ despite her insistence, was kindly, and seemed in a way to be as out of place as he felt. She spent a great deal of time in the kitchen, but did so in a way that endeared her to the kitchen staff. Fraser had won her over by showing her a homemade silver polish he’d concocted. She’d been delighted at how it made the flatware sparkle, and had happily embraced him before he knew what was happening. The incident had left him disconcerted, but pleased.

He’d barely seen either Tony or Maria, except at meal times. Apparently she went shopping on an almost daily basis, and he kept to their rooms.

And there had been several close calls with the amazingly persistent Francesca. Luckily, she wore a very distinctive perfume, so between that and the clicking of the heels she wore, Fraser usually had some warning before she could find him anywhere alone. He always had time to make sure he was as far away from her as possible, without making it look purposeful. And it was a very good thing for him, as invariably at least one of Mr. Vecchio’s men would enter soon after, no doubt protecting her virtue.

While he’d seen Ray, they hadn’t had a chance to do more than exchange a few words, which disappointed him more than he cared to admit, even to himself. He thought he saw a similar disappointment on Ray’s face, but most likely he was just projecting. For the most part, he was too busy to think about anything other than work. But at night, alone in his room, he found himself having difficulty not thinking about his new friend.

It was a welcome distraction from the other paths his thoughts were taking, all having to do with his new appointment. The shock of the events of the last few days had finally worn off, and Fraser couldn’t help but think about his circumstances. The more he made a place for himself here, the more the reality of the situation sunk in, and Fraser knew he had some decisions to make.

There was a part of him that was outraged that he’d been gambled away like so much property. And a part of him that still couldn’t believe he’d just let it happen. He still wasn’t completely sure how he’d let himself be put in this position.

He hadn’t even been told what the exact terms of the bet had been. There had to be some parameters as far as the term of his employment, hadn’t there? He needed to go to Mr. Vecchio, find out the specifics of the wager, and see what negotiation he’d need to do to make this an acceptable arrangement for them both. He didn’t want to go back on his word, but this was his life that had been bandied about. He’d just have to find the right time to approach Mr. Vecchio and discuss it with him.

 

It turned out that wasn’t as easy as it sounded. The house was bustling with activity, everyone busy with arrangements for a formal dinner the following week that meant a great deal of preparation. Fraser found himself coordinating the staff, deliveries of food and flowers, and making sure the house was in top shape. It was tiring, but satisfying, especially as everything started to fall into place.

Mr. Vecchio had barely been home. Apparently, he was making use of the downtown apartment Ray had mentioned. So all Fraser could do was go about his duties, and watch for the right moment.

The day before the dinner, he was straightening some things in the foyer when he heard his name.

“Benny – just the man I was looking for.” He sighed inwardly, and vowed once again to try and get used to being called that rather undignified name.

“How can I be of service, sir?”

Mr. Vecchio chuckled. “I love that. Seriously, though – I need you to go into town and pick up a few last-minute things for me.”

“Me, sir?”

“Yeah, you. There another Benny around here I don’t know about?” His eyed narrowed. “Or do you have a problem with doing this for me?”

Fraser hastened to correct the misunderstanding. “Of course not, sir. I was just surprised you would trust me with such a venture. I’ve not been here long, after all.”

Mr. Vecchio relaxed at that, and so did Fraser, though his stance never changed. “I got no problems having you do this for me, Benny. Besides, Stanley knows where to go and who to see, so it’s not like you’ll get lost.”

Stanley? He quickly ran through a mental list of the staff, but couldn’t come up with a face. Fraser concluded that he must be the primary chauffer, whom he’d not yet met. “I’ll do my best for you, sir.”

“Of that I have no doubt, Benny. You’re doing good work, starting to fit in here just fine. House looks good; everybody’s busy. You’re gonna be a real asset to the place.” He clapped Fraser hard on the shoulder, who tried not to flinch at the contact. “So you go, you pick me out some good stuff, and it gives you a chance to get out of here for a few hours, see the city. And lets some people see my newest hire at the same time. Good for everyone, capisce?”

“Understood, sir. I’ll just go and get my things, then.” He made the tiny bow that all good help knew, and went off to find his coat and hat. Perhaps when he returned he’d have the chance to broach the subject of his employment.

He thought he’d have to go to the garage, but the limousine was in the drive when Fraser exited the house. He was surprised to see Ray there, and stopped in his tracks, taking in the unexpected sight of the man. Ray was leaning nonchalantly against the car, hat on the hood, with his head leaned back and his eyes closed, giving Fraser a chance to look at him unnoticed.

Ray’s dark blond hair was made bright gold by the sun’s light. Fraser could see the barest hint of stubble on his cheeks and chin, making his face almost sparkle. He was fair of face, and while not conventionally handsome, he was definitely striking. As if he felt Fraser’s gaze on him, Ray straightened up, unhurried, and opened his eyes. He didn’t smile, but Fraser felt sure he could detect a hint of amusement in his eyes.

He continued down the stairs to the car, hat in hand, and gave a cursory nod to Ray, as if he hadn’t been caught staring. The sudden fluttering in his stomach he explained away to himself as a touch of nerves at doing well in this task. That the trip meant spending time with Ray had nothing to do with it, of course. Ray nodded back, picked his own hat up off the hood, and placed it on his head at a jaunty angle as he opened the back door.

Other than a “Thank you kindly” from Fraser, the two sat in silence until the car was through the gates, at which point it seemed like a switch had been flipped inside Ray. He turned back briefly to give Fraser a wide, warm smile. “So,” he began, “how are you liking life in the big man’s house?”

Fraser smiled back. “It takes some getting used to, but overall has been easier than I expected. I have you to thank for much of that.”

Ray shrugged. “You seem like a nice enough guy – didn’t see any harm in giving you my take on the place. Figured you’d listen, see for yourself, and take what you could use.”

Fraser nodded. “Which is precisely what I did. And I must admit, I’ve needed every bit of what you told me already. You’re quite an astute observer, and a good judge of character.”

Ray kept watching the road, but through the rear-view mirror Fraser could see the edges of his eyes crinkle as he smiled at the compliment.

“Well, we all gotta be good at something, I guess. So hey, now that you’ve been here a few days, what do you think? Is this place more work than your last job?”

“It’s a larger house, to be sure, but I wouldn’t say it’s more work. Rather, it’s work of a different kind.”

Ray chuffed at that. “Which tells me absolutely zero. What’s so different about it?”

Fraser stopped for a moment, considering what to say. “Well, I suppose that while my general duties are more demanding, overall it’s a much easier household to run.”

“You gotta be kidding me. How could a bigger place be easier?”

“Have you ever been up north, Ray?” At Ray’s shake of the head, he went on. “It’s a much harsher environment than Chicago. From what I’ve been told, your winters pale by comparison.”

“So was the last place you worked in the middle of nowhere?”

“Actually, the Turnbull estate is situated near Winnipeg, which isn’t so different from Chicago, I suppose. But the land feels more open there, in ways I’m not sure I can adequately describe. Perhaps it’s that Chicago seems so… compact, for want of a better word. Is that typical of American cities?”

Ray thought about that for a minute. “Bigger cities, maybe. I haven’t really done a lot of traveling. Went to my uncle’s farm a couple of summers growing up – now _that_ was some serious work. Convinced me I didn’t want to be a farmer when I grew up, let me tell you.”

“You don’t enjoy outdoor activities?”

“Too much nature gives me a rash,” he replied with a smile. “How about you? That why you do the butler thing, to stay indoors?”

“Not at all. I very much enjoy being out of doors, to be honest. And while we don’t have a farm, my family does have a small but sturdy cabin in Swan River, which is further north than Winnipeg. We used to vacation there, but it isn’t what most people would call time off. There’s work to be done – hard, physical work – from sunrise to sunset. Some of what you consider bare necessities we consider luxuries.” He stopped, thinking about the places he’d possibly never see again.

Ray’s voice cut through his reverie. “You love it there.” He said, his tone matter of fact. “I’ve never been, but I _do_ read, so I know what we have here is a cakewalk next to what’s there, but you love it. _Because_ it’s hard.”

Fraser was startled that Ray had picked up on that, though he shouldn’t have been. He’d already noted how perceptive the man seemed to be.

“It’s part of why I love it, yes,” he admitted. “I suppose it takes a certain kind of person to want to live in such conditions. And as I was born and raised there, it’s really the only kind of life I’ve known.”

‘Yeah, I get that. I was born and bred in Chicago, and I have a hard time picturing myself as anything but a city boy. I always thought I’d travel, but it never ended up that way for me.”

Fraser nodded. “And I never thought I’d live anywhere but Canada – it appears we were both mistaken.”

The two stopped talking then, though the silence felt in no way uncomfortable. Fraser was once again surprised at the ease between himself and Ray; it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. But then, he thought, Ray was unlike anyone he’d ever met, so it stood to reason that their relationship thus far would be unusual.

“Ray, I’ve a question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Ask away,” he replied with a shrug.

“Were you expecting to drive me today?”

“Yeah, it was on my list today – why?”

“Mr. Vecchio led me to believe I’d have another driver – a man named Stanley.”

Ray’s eyes darkened and Fraser could see his brow furrow. “That’s my given name - Ray’s my middle name. The boss likes to call me Stanley, even though I don’t like it.” The car was filled with tension, which dissipated as Ray took a deep breath and smiled at Fraser. “Sorry. I’m just a little touchy about it. So, hey, I got a question, too, then.” Ray looked back, and Fraser nodded for him to go on. “From what I hear, the boss-man’s decided to call _you_ Benny.” Fraser nodded again, unable at the moment to keep a sour look from his face. Ray laughed.

“That answers that. I was guessing you didn’t like it, but didn’t say anything either.”

Again, Fraser felt a brief sense of wonder at how easily Ray read him. “It isn’t my place to correct Mr. Vecchio, and Benny, while personally distasteful, _is_ a derivation of my given name. But how,” he had to ask, “did you know I wouldn’t like it?”

“Well, I’m thinking you take your job pretty seriously, all last name basis and everything, so even Benton would bother you. Plus, you don’t look like a Benny.”

“I don’t?”

“Nah.” Ray responded. “I can see Benton, maybe even Ben to anyone you let close, but not Benny. I’m betting most people call you Fraser, and you like that just fine.”

“Again, I must state that you are quite observant. Almost unnervingly so.”

Ray grinned. “Yeah, I like to shake things up a little when I can. Don’t mean anything by it, though, so don’t worry,” he went on with a wink, “I won’t let on to anybody.”

Fraser smiled at that, hoping Ray couldn’t see the flush in his cheeks the wink had caused. “I never thought you would, Ray. But thank you kindly, in any case, for keeping my secret. And I will, of course, keep yours as well.”

Ray gave him an odd look at that, then shrugged. “Thanks,” he answered quietly.

The rest of the trip was spent in talking over the places Fraser was to stop, the types of items he was to procure, hints from Ray on how to get the best deals, and who he was better off not even talking to, either for propriety’s sake or personal safety.

Ray was extremely knowledgeable, and Fraser wondered about the source of his information, but didn’t feel it right to ask. He was just grateful that Ray was willing to help him.

The last stop was actually a delivery, he was surprised to find out. Ray stopped in front of a building with a sign proclaiming it to be “The Music Hall” and handed Fraser an envelope. He then slumped down in his seat and pulled his hat forward to partially cover his features. The shift surprised Fraser, as this looked to be a fairly reputable neighborhood.

“Ray, is everything all right? Is there something unsafe about this place or this neighborhood about which I need to be aware?”

Ray shook his head, but stayed where he was. “Nah, Fraser, it’s just, I don’t really want to be seen here, that’s all. You just take that up to the door and ask for them to take it to Stella. Make sure you tell them Vecchio sent you or they’ll just boot you out. You wait inside for her answer, then come back and I take you back to the house. Easy as pie.”

Fraser sensed there was more to the story, but he trusted Ray not to endanger him. “All right. I’ll be back as quickly as I can, then.” He opened the door and went up where, as instructed, he asked for the envelope to be delivered, and told the rather large gentleman at the door that he’d been asked to wait for a reply. As soon as he’d mentioned his employer by name, he was been treated with respect and even a bit of fawning, which while entirely inappropriate, he felt it better not to correct.

He could hear music from a nearby room, which made sense, given the name of the establishment. Piano and a woman’s voice floated through the doorway as his delivery made its way to Stella, whom he presumed was a singer here.

The music stopped and Fraser heard the woman’s voice get louder as she approached the door. “I said, I’ll tell him myself,” she responded to some unheard question as she opened the door.

His first impression of her was that she had the capacity to be a very beautiful woman. She was tall and thin, with petite features and lovely golden blond hair that was done up stylishly. However, the look on her face at the moment was anything but beautiful.

“So, you’re the newest toy Raimundo’s showing off,” she began with a snarl. “You tell him for me that if he wants me to come to dinner at his mansion,” she nearly spat that, her voice filled with derision, “he can come here and ask me himself, not send some flunky.”

She wadded up the envelope and its contents and flung them at Fraser. “And tell him to give me more than a day’s notice!” With that she stalked back to the door, went through it, and slammed it behind her. He heard a crash of broken glass, and smelled an odd yet familiar odor he couldn’t quite place.

Fraser stood there a moment, stunned, as were the other witnesses to the tirade, then knelt down to pick up the wads of paper, putting them into his pocket as he tilted his hat to the others. He didn’t know the exact contents of the letter, but leaving personal business out for anyone to find didn’t seem wise.

“Well, then, it seems I should be going. Thank you kindly for your time.” And with that he made his exit.

As he walked back to the car, he belatedly identified the scent he’d noticed as alcohol. Given the recent laws passed in the States concerning liquor, it was something no law-abiding establishment would have. And yet he knew that was what he’d smelled. Other things fell into place as he thought. It would explain Ray’s comment about Mr. Vecchio being “new money” and his oblique warning about the legitimacy of the fortune he’d obtained.

He couldn’t help but look back and wonder if other illicit activities took place here. Was this where his services had been gambled away?

Ray was silent as Fraser got back into the car, and only sat up enough to see over the dashboard until they were a block away. At that point, he got back into his normal driving position and took a real look back at Fraser.

“Guess things didn’t go so hot in there, huh?”

“On the contrary,” he replied, his tone bland. “I believe hot is the perfect word to describe the young lady’s mood.”

Ray laughed at that. “Yeah, I guess Stella can get pretty hot under the collar.” At the next stop he turned to face Fraser, his face apologetic. “Look, I didn’t know she was gonna be like that, really, or I would’ve warned you.”

“I’m sure you would have, Ray.”

“No, really, I mean it.” Ray insisted as he turned back to drive. “It was pretty much even money whether she’d blow her top or come off all mushy-gushy and goo-goo eyed. I was figuring that second choice, but figured wrong. Sorry you got blind-sided.”

Fraser realized Ray truly was sorry, and felt bad that he’d thought Ray might find the scene funny. “You can’t warn me about everyone I’m sure to encounter here, Ray. I don’t blame you for not knowing how she would react.”

Ray shook his head. “Maybe, but if I’d been thinking I would’ve guessed it. I know Stella pretty well – I should’ve realized.”

“You know her?” He hoped his tone only conveyed polite curiosity, but was sure he heard a sharp edge that alarmed him. If Ray noticed, he showed no sign of it.

“Yeah, she and I grew up in the same neighborhood. Well,” he amended, “close enough. Same area, different sides of the tracks. But she was nice enough to me, and we got along okay. I had a real thing for her back in school. Don’t know if she ever knew, but we were friends, and that was something.”

“She’s the reason you were hiding,” Fraser realized.

Ray looked a bit surprised at that, but nodded. “Yeah, she was. I didn’t want her to see me doing this. Not that this isn’t a good job,” he went on, “and I’m not ashamed of it or anything. Just…”

“You just want her to remember the young man you were.” Fraser finished.

Ray shrugged. “I guess.” He shook himself, as if to bring himself back from wherever his thoughts were trying to take him.

“Hey, listen, one thing I **can** tell you is not to worry about how the boss’ll react. He knows how she is, knows she has a temper. I think he even likes it – maybe he sent you there today on purpose, just to rile her up.”

“Or perhaps to test me in some way.”

“Yeah, that’s possible too,” he replied, his tone darkening. “He’s a big one for tests. Anyhow,” and at this Ray grinned, and Fraser was sure the change in mood was deliberate. “Anyhow, he won’t get mad at you, so don’t worry about that. You aren’t the first one to come back with bad news from The Stella.”

The rest of the drive was spent in companionable silence, with bits of small talk interspersed, mostly about Chicago, and what it was like to grow up in their respective areas. Fraser was sorry to see the gates that meant their return, and the end of their time together.

“Okay, gotta go all official again, but before I do, just know that if you ever want to talk, need a different place to hang out for a bit, you come find me, okay? I have a place above the main garage, real easy to find.”

Fraser smiled at the offer. “Thank you, Ray. I may just do that.”

Ray returned his smile, and it lit his face. “Okay then, good. That’s greatness.”

As Ray had predicted, Mr. Vecchio wasn’t at all put out with Fraser at his account of his meeting with Stella, and was even pleased that Fraser had thought to pick up the note he’d sent. “That’s sharp thinking there, Benny. I like that in an employee.” Then he’d been dismissed too quickly to even hope to really talk with Mr. Vecchio.

That night, alone in his room, he found he wasn’t as frustrated by his lack of success as he’d expected, and he knew it was because of the time he’d spent with Ray. He replayed the day in his head, amazed he’d truly found a friend here, and friendship was something he’d not had in longer than he cared to recall. Fraser had never connected with anyone as easily as he had with Ray, and he vowed to do his best to keep the friendship growing. If he was to be settled here for a time, he’d actively pursue any benefits.

 

In that vein, Fraser made a point of seeking out Ray the next day, hoping he wasn’t overstepping his bounds. He found Ray in the smaller, secondary garage, stripped down to his undershirt and an old pair of work pants, and smeared with grease.

“Hey there, Fraser,” Ray said as he waved, then put his head back under the hood of the black limousine he’d driven the previous day. “Watch where you step – it’s easy to get dirty around here.”

“I’ll be careful, Ray.” Fraser smiled at Ray’s concern for his appearance. He approached carefully, noting that the garage was extremely well organized, and Ray obviously took care to keep it as tidied as he could. The breeze blowing through open garage doors and sun filtering in gave it a feeling of hominess Fraser hadn’t expected. He didn’t let himself wonder about it, choosing instead to engage Ray in conversation.

“Is there something wrong with the automobile? I don’t know a great deal about them, but it seemed to me to be running well enough yesterday.”

Ray looked up with a grin. “Nah, the Lincoln’s just fine,” he replied, slapping the side of the car lightly. “I get bored is all, and I like to tinker around, see if I can find ways to jazz her up. What do you do when you get bored? Or does that not happen to you?” he teased.

“Everyone gets bored, Ray. And I read, when I can. Or if I find myself needing to keep my hands occupied, I’ve taken to doing bits of wood-working.”

“What, you worried about idle hands and all that devil stuff that goes along with it?” The tone remained playful, warming Fraser in a way that surprised him. How long had it been since someone teased him like this?

He shook his head to cover his surprise and tried to match Ray’s less serious tone. “Its just a rare diversion, I assure you. I’m not often at a loss to find something to do.”

“Well, rare or not, I’ll bet you’re good at it. You should bring something down with you to work on next time. I’d like to see it.”

Fraser flushed a bit at that, though he wasn’t sure if it was Ray’s interest in his hobby, or the phrase “next time” that was the cause.

A glint of metal at Ray’s neck caught Fraser’s eye, and he moved a bit closer. It was a plain silver chain, and Fraser was surprised to see dogtags hanging from it. Fraser realized he was staring at the same moment he felt Ray watching him. As Ray straightened up, Fraser gestured to indicate the chain.

“I didn’t realize you were in the Armed Forces, Ray.”

Ray nodded. “Yep. I was with the MTC in France.” At Fraser’s confused look, he smiled and explained. “Motor Transport Corps. Did most of my time doing what I’m doing now – making things run right.” He looked at the tags as he spoke, twisting the chain so that they spun. “I wasn’t allowed on the front lines on account of my eyes.”

“Your eyes?” Fraser prompted gently.

Ray looked up at him, face blank. “Yeah. They really aren’t that great, especially for stuff that’s far away. Tell you the truth, I’m supposed to wear glasses when I drive, street signs and all that, but I know Chicago well enough to not need them.” He shrugged. “Anyhow, it was enough to keep me out of the action.”

“Some would say you were lucky, Ray.” Fraser tried to keep his tone neutral, but the look on Ray’s face told him he hadn’t quite succeeded.

“Front lines for you?” Ray asked, his voice as gentle as Fraser’s had been moments before.

Fraser nodded. “I served in the Canadian Corps.”

“You at Passchendaele?” At Fraser’s surprised look, Ray shrugged. “It was one of the big ones for you guys, right?”

Fraser nodded. “Yes it was, but no, I wasn’t there. I was sent home prior to that, after being wounded at Vimy Ridge.”

“Sent home? Must’ve been pretty bad.”

Fraser started to give a pat reply, then stopped himself. Ray had been honest with him. He deserved a real answer. “I was shot twice, once in the leg, and then in the back as I fell. The doctors weren’t sure I’d walk, actually. It took a lot of work, but I was able to make a full, if slow recovery.”

“You keep the bullets? Souvenir, that kind of thing?”

“The one in my leg, no. But with the one in my back, I had no choice. The doctors thought it too risky to remove it.”

Ray looked at him with a bit of awe, which made Fraser uncomfortable. “It isn’t something I like to talk about, actually.”

Ray watched him for another long moment, and Fraser wondered what he was thinking. “Yeah, I get that,” was all Ray said though as he turned to get a tool and went back to work on the engine.

The silence stretched on for a few moments as Fraser watched Ray work.

“You seem to know a great deal about automobiles.”

“Yeah, I like tinkering around. Nice part of this job, getting to drive a beauty like this.” Ray gave the car an affectionate look. “Limo’s are a little trickier to drive than a regular car, but she runs as smooth as silk.’ He smiled at Fraser. “Getting to drive her’s a real kick.”

Fraser smiled back. You certainly got to do a lot of driving yesterday.”

“Definitely one of my better driving days,” he agreed then blushed a bit and continued. “Always better when I get to drive someone I like.”

The admission warmed Fraser and he felt his smile widen. The two men stayed that way, just smiling at one another, until Ray shook himself and ducked back under the hood.

Fraser decided to ask about something that had been bothering him since their trip the previous day. “Ray, that last stop we made yesterday – am I correct in thinking that was a Speak-softly?”

Ray nearly bumped his head on the hood of the car as he jumped in surprise. “Keep your voice down, Fraser!” He looked around, then relaxed and continued, his voice low. “What makes you think it was a Speakeasy?” He gestured for Fraser to come closer as he spoke, and Fraser obliged.

Ah. Speak _easy_. He’d remember that. And the fact that Ray hadn’t even acknowledged his use of the wrong word.

“Well, Ray, while I have never made a habit of visiting drinking establishments, even in Canada where it’s legal, I have had to, shall we say, escort someone safely home from time to time.”

Ray shook his head at that and chuckled. “Pretty nice way of saying you had to rescue someone from losing his lunch in public, or better yet, the family fortune.” He stopped, stricken, and looked Fraser in the eye. “I’m sorry. That’s not funny. I know what happened to get you here, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

Something in Fraser’s chest tightened at the look of real remorse on Ray’s face. He found himself moving even closer to the other man, his hand moving to cover Ray’s where it rested on the car. “It’s quite all right, Ray, really. I’ve accepted the circumstances surrounding my employment here. And there’s nothing to say I’ll always be here, though to be honest it isn’t a bad place to work. Besides, there’s always a silver lining, if one just looks.”

Ray looked down at Fraser’s hand on his, bemused, then back up at Fraser. The look in his eyes was unreadable. Fraser swallowed hard and started to move away. Ray turned his hand as Fraser moved, gave Fraser’s a quick squeeze, then let him go.

“You’re a real understanding guy, Benton Fraser.” He handed Fraser a fairly clean rag, and Fraser took it, noticing the grease he’d gotten on his hand when he’d touched Ray. A wistful part of him was sorry to wipe it off, a notion he dismissed as childish.

“I prefer to think of myself as a decent judge of character. And I don’t believe you meant anything hurtful by your comment.”

“You got that right. And it isn’t the only thing you nailed. Vecchio’s got part ownership in the Hall, and while it’s nicer than a lot of the Speaks out there, that don’t make it any more legal.” Ray gave Fraser a considering look. “I still don’t see how you picked up on it so fast. You weren’t in there long enough for even a quick look around.”

“True, I didn’t go into the club itself, but I heard the distinctive sound of bottles being moved about. And one was broken as I was leaving – the smell is quite distinctive.”

Ray looked at him dubiously. “You could smell the liquor from another room?”

Fraser nodded. “Yes, though it took me a few moments to register just what it was. My sense of smell is quite sharp.”

Ray looked away and muttered something Fraser could only hear a fragment of, something about “wishing we could use that.” When he looked back his gaze was startlingly intense, like he was sizing Fraser up for something. Then he abruptly turned to look for a tool.

“All I can say, Fraser, is it’s probably best if you don’t mention this to anyone else. Might not be real safe for you.”

“But Ray, surely the authorities would want to know if-”

Ray cut him of with an angry gesture, his stance radiating tension. “No! Do **not** go there, Fraser – I mean it. I don’t know how things are done up in Canada, but here people who talk about stuff they shouldn’t end up disappearing.” Ray took a deep breath as if to force himself to relax. “Just trust me on this, okay? I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. If it’s meant to be that someone should find out, it’ll happen.”

Fraser wanted to protest, but the pleading look in Ray’s eyes forced him to acquiesce. “All right, Ray. I’ll keep quiet for now, as no one seems to be hurt by what’s going on.”

Ray blew out a breath, relief evident on his features, and smiled. “Okay then. That’s good.” They stood that way, just smiling at one another as they had before, until Ray broke the silence. “Hey, I don’t mean to run you out of here, but I don’t want you to get in trouble with the boss, and I’m betting you don’t get long breaks.”

Fraser nodded in reluctant agreement. While in truth it was his job to set such breaks, he’d spent more time at the garage than he’d meant. “Right you are, Ray. And I should let you get back to your work as well. Thank you for an enlightening conversation.” He turned to walk away, then stopped at the edge of the garage.

“I do, you know. Trust you. Never doubt that.”

Ray stared at him a moment, then nodded and went back to his work.

It wasn’t until Fraser was nearly at the doors to the main house that he realized he still held the rag Ray had given him to clean his hands.

Fraser tried to visit Ray again over the next few days, but apparently Mr. Vecchio was keeping him quite busy, and every time he checked the garage neither Ray nor the limousine were there. They’d been able to wave at one another from a distance a few times, but that was it. “Well, it isn’t as if Ray is just here to be your friend, and at your beck and call,” he reminded himself. Still, the disappointment he felt was keen, and made his daily tasks seem more tedious than they should have been.

Perhaps it was for the best, he tried to tell himself. His desire to see Ray was likely not healthy, given its intensity. And the last thing he wanted to do was drive Ray away. Fraser hadn’t had many friends growing up, but even so, he knew this was different. There was an undercurrent of feeling he wouldn’t let himself name. Something that made his pulse quicken every time he saw the limousine, even from afar, or when he so much as remembered the smear of grease on Ray’s hands.

He recalled the image of Ray relaxing in the sun far too often for mere friendship to explain as well. And Ray in the garage, the warmth of his hand, the care in his voice… Fraser had taken to keeping the rag Ray had given him folded neatly in his pocket. If asked, it was so he could return it, an excuse he almost believed. Of course, all the justification and explanation in the world didn’t change the facts. The fact was that he’d let Ray get close without even meaning to. And that he wanted to let him get even closer, and anxiously waited the next time he’d be able to see him.

Fraser knew it wasn’t the safest of relationships to pursue, but he couldn’t help how he felt. On the other hand, he had no clue as to Ray’s feelings about homosexuality in general, or him in particular. They were friends, yes, with some common experiences, despite their different backgrounds. But was it more than that? It had seemed so, that day in the garage. There had definitely been a spark of _something_ there. Speaking only for himself, Fraser wanted more. He just had to find a safe way to see if Ray felt the same.

It wasn’t until three days later that Fraser finally got to see Ray, almost literally running into him in the foyer.

“Whoa, sorry there, Fraser. Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“That’s quite all right, Ray,” Fraser said, and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his friend. Ray grinned back for a brief moment, then went businesslike again. “Listen, you got a minute?”

At Fraser’s nod, Ray took his arm and started them toward the door. Once outside, he stopped them a few steps down.

“I just wanted to ask you something. There’s no wrong answer, but you gotta be honest with me here, okay?”

Fraser tried not to look insulted at the thought he’d be less than truthful. “All right, Ray.”

“Okay, good. If you had your choice, would you be back with that family you’ve been with forever?”

Fraser wasn’t sure what he thought the question would be, but that certainly wasn’t it. “But I haven’t a choice. I gave my word to serve out a debt. My work is here now.”

Ray waved his hands impatiently. “But if you did?”

“I – well, of course it would be good to be in more familiar surroundings, I suppose. If you’d asked me on the drive that first day, my answer would have been to return to the employ of the Turnbull family.”

“You aren’t so sure now?” Ray’s voice was strained, as if the question hurt to ask.

Fraser decided to be bold. He put his hand on Ray’s shoulder, near the juncture of his neck, and squeezed lightly, his thumb nearly brushing Ray’s collar. “Every situation has a silver lining, and some hold more attraction than others.”

The look in Ray’s eyes spoke of similar feelings, and Fraser wished he’d say something, anything. His life was unsettled enough as it was without this uncertainty. Ray raised his shoulder briefly, the move bringing the back of Fraser’s hand into contact with Ray’s cheek, then moved away.

“Gotta go, Ben – errands for the boss man.”

Fraser nodded, and watched Ray get into the limousine and drive off before going back into the house. His hand still tingled where his skin had touched Ray’s, and he couldn’t help the smile hearing Ray speak his name had brought.

Later that afternoon came a knock at the door. Fraser went to answer it, and was stunned to see Renfield Turnbull.

“Fraser!” he exclaimed happily, as if surprised to see Fraser there.

“Mr. Turnbull! May I say it’s quite unexpected to see you.”

“I have a business proposition for Mr. Vecchio. Is he here?” Turnbull looked around as if perhaps the man might just appear at the utterance of his name, then whistled as he took in the surroundings. “Goodness, this is quite a step up from home. Must keep you busy.”

“My duties are somewhat different than when I was in your employ, but I would never compare the two, sir.” He hoped that would deflect the conversation away from what he thought of his new job. Having Ray ask about it was disconcerting enough. “Sir, if you would allow me to show you to the drawing room, I’ll see if Mr. Vecchio is available. If I might tell him the reason for your visit?”

“Just tell him it’s business, Fraser.” The he leaned in and lowered his voice. “But between you and me, I’m going to try and get you back. Father was furious with me when he found out.”

Ah. Well, this ought to prove interesting. “Very good sir. If you’ll just follow me.”

Once Fraser got Turnbull settled, he went upstairs to Mr. Vecchio’s private office. Unfortunately, Huey and Gardino were waiting on either side of the doorframe. Neither of them liked Fraser at all, for reasons he couldn’t discern.

Gardino’s disposition hadn’t improved from their first meeting, and Huey’s was even worse, though at least he seemed to understand how to dress. Fraser had hoped Dewey would be there, as he seemed the least unpleasant of the three bodyguards, aside from his propensity for terrible jokes. Fraser had heard he was a newer hire. He’d also heard Huey and Gardino taunting Dewey, and thought perhaps that kept him from bothering Fraser too much.

“Mr. Vecchio has a visitor,” Fraser said.

“Who’s here to see the Boss?” asked Gardino as he moved to block the door a bit more.

“I’m afraid that it isn’t up to me to tell you that. It’s solely the business of Mr. Vecchio, so if you won’t let me in, please let him know I’m here. I would greatly appreciate it.”

The two men looked at each other and laughed. “Greatly appreciate it – listen to the snooty talk, Louis,” Huey said with a sneer. “You think you’re better than us, Benny-boy?”

Fraser was saved a reply by the door opening and Mr. Vecchio coming out, pushing aside Huey and Gardino in the process. Fraser stepped back to avoid colliding with either of the two.

“What’s this I hear about somebody to see me, Benny?” His tone was mild, but Fraser could hear the anger underneath it, and was glad it wasn’t directed at him.

“Yes sir,” he replied. “Mr. Renfield Turnbull is here, sir. He says he has a business proposition of some sort for you.”

“Turnbull? The guy you used to work for? What could he have that I want?” The unspoken _I’ve got you_ was clear, and Fraser worked to keep from reacting to the possessiveness of the man’s tone. He’d still not had a chance to speak with Mr. Vecchio, letting himself be distracted. It was a situation he resolved to rectify.

“I’m sure I couldn’t say, sir. Shall I escort him out, or do you wish to meet with him?”

Mr. Vecchio shrugged. “Sure, I’ll meet with the kid. Might be good for a laugh.”

“Very good, sir. I instructed him to wait in the drawing room – will that suffice for your meeting?”

“Sounds fine, Benny,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Don’t bother getting any kind of refreshments or anything like that, though – he isn’t going to be here that long.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll just go down and let him know you’ll be with him shortly, then.”

“You do that, Benny. I’ll be down after I have a few words with these goons about respect.”

Fraser made a strategic retreat. When Mr. Vecchio came down, he was alone, and true to his word, the meeting didn’t take long. Fraser didn’t dare ask how it went, but Mr. Turnbull left with a wink and a happy handshake, and Mr. Vecchio seemed very amused.

“I’ll be going out tonight, Benny, so don’t hold up dinner for me. And if I’m not back by breakfast, tell Ma I stayed at my place in town.”

“Very good, sir.”

 

Fraser was awakened from a fitful sleep early the next morning by a pounding on the door. He threw on his robe and slippers and rushed to answer, finger-combing his hair into place as he went.

He opened the door to find a grizzled, middle-aged man waiting, two uniformed police officers at his side, and a piece of paper in his hand. Several police cars were parked in the roundabout in front of the house.

Mustering what dignity he could given his state of dress, he asked, “May I help you gentlemen?”

The man with the paper snorted at that and moved to come in. Fraser hastily moved aside to let the officers in, but stopped them just inside the door.

“Again, how can I be of service?”

“I’m Lieutenant Welsh, Chicago PD, in case you haven’t figured that part out yet,” he stated as he flashed his badge. “You’re Fraser, right?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, startled. “I’m the butler for this household.”

Lt. Welsh nodded and turned to his men. “I got this one, boys. You start upstairs.”

Before Fraser could protest, Lt. Welsh held out the paper. “This is a search warrant – covers the whole estate.”

Fraser looked it over carefully, and saw nothing out of place.

“If I might ask, sir, what prompted this search?”

“All you need to know is that if you come up clean, you’re going to need to find a new employer. Yours is about to be sent away for a very long time.” He looked at Fraser closely. “Listen, I know you haven’t been here long, but people say stuff in front of the help without thinking. Maybe you saw or heard something that could help us.” He gestured to a uniformed policeman who had just entered the room.

“Davis, you go with Fraser here to his room. Let him get dressed, then take him downtown. As a witness, Davis, not a suspect,” he emphasized. “Treat him right.”

The officer nodded, and Fraser had no choice but to return to his room and prepare to go to the police station. He heard the sounds of the rest of the household being awakened, and suddenly thought of Ray, who might have been with Mr. Vecchio the night before. He doubted this officer had any information, but perhaps the lieutenant would be able to tell him what, if anything, had happened to his friend.

As it turned out, he didn’t get the chance to ask. The lieutenant was nowhere in sight as Fraser was escorted to one of the police vehicles. He didn’t see Tony or Maria, but Francesca and her mother were there, holding each other and crying. The sight moved him to speak.

“I don’t know if it matters,” he said, startling Officer Davis, “but I truly believe those two women had nothing to do with anything illegal in which Mr. Vecchio might have been involved. I would hope they would be treated more like victims than criminals during this investigation.”

The officer gave him a sharp look, then jogged over to say something to the policeman nearest the Vecchio women. There was an exchange of words, and the other officer’s demeanor seemed less hostile when he went back to his charges.

“Thank you kindly, Officer Davis,” he said on the man’s return. Davis nodded in reply, and the two got into the nearest squad car.

The outside of the station was in chaos, surrounded by reporters and citizens alike, and getting in took a bit of doing. Fraser was jostled and jeered at and photographed, a flash momentarily blinding him. He let Officer Davis lead him by the arm into the station itself, which was at least as chaotic as it had been outside. The officer moved them through the crowded hallways with practiced ease, and Fraser was grateful to be taken to a quiet room to regroup.

A few minutes later, his eyesight was back to normal. He looked around the sparse room and wondered ho long he’d be required to wait. A soft knock on the door brought him out of his reverie, and he looked up to see Ray enter.

“Ray! What are you doing here?” By the look on Ray’s face, he was as surprised to see Fraser as Fraser was to see him.

“Aw, jeez, they didn’t tell me it was you in here.” He stuck his head out the door and yelled, “Thanks a lot!” then came and pulled up a chair next to Fraser. As he did, Fraser couldn’t help but notice the badge clipped to Ray’s belt.

He pointed to it as Ray sat down. “So, I see you’re not a chauffer after all.”

Ray had the grace to blush and look embarrassed. “Nope. Detective, undercover. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, Ben. Orders were that nobody was supposed to know.”

Fraser nodded, then realized something. “That’s why you hid from Stella, at the club that day. She knows who you really are.” It was all falling into place. Ray’s knowledge of him, his interest, the odd looks and comments, even his seeming desire to protect Fraser – all were likely an act. Fraser was just another way to obtain inside information on the Vecchios.

“Yeah, what I told you was true – me and Stella do go way back. She knows I’m a cop. Times I had to drive Vecchio to the club were the riskiest ones I had.”

“May I ask who you are? I’m assuming Ray isn’t actually your name,” he said, his voice flat.

Ray shrugged. “It’s Stanley Raymond Kowalski. But I do really go by Ray.” He leaned forward, the look on his face intensely earnest. “All that stuff we talked about – that was all truth. I only lied to you when I absolutely had to.” He looked closely at Fraser. “You believe me, right?”

By all rights, Fraser knew he shouldn’t. He’d been lied to, and likely used. But his instincts told him otherwise, as did his heart. Unsure of what to believe, he said, “Of course, Detective Kowalski,” but his tone held no conviction. He ignored the flash of pain that crossed Ray’s face at his use of his last name and title.

Ray hung his head for a long minute, and when he looked up, it was with the business-like demeanor Fraser had seen before.

“Okay, then. They sent me in here to question a witness, so that’s what I have to do. You up for this? Need any coffee or water or anything?”

“I’m fine, thank you kindly,” he replied evenly. “Please, don’t let worry about me keep you from doing your job.”

Ray asked his questions, which Fraser answered as best he could. It took some time, and in the end, Fraser had asked for some water, which Ray had quickly provided. Once they were finished, Ray asked Fraser to wait in the interrogation room while he checked in with his lieutenant.

“Please thank Leftenant Welsh for me, for making sure I was treated well this morning.” Fraser said. “And as I take it his knowledge of me was your doing, thank you kindly as well.”

Ray stopped just outside the door, obviously distressed at Fraser’s crisp, polite tone. “I’ll let him know,” he replied, subdued. “And you’re welcome.”

When the door opened again, Fraser was surprised to see not Ray, but one of Mr. Vecchio’s men, Dewey, walk in. He stood, and Dewey grinned.

“Hey, take it easy. Look,” he said, holding up a badge, this one different than the one Ray had been wearing. “I’m one of the good guys.”

Fraser relaxed his defensive stance. “I was given to believe that Ra- Detective Kowalski was the undercover officer for this assignment.”

“He was the local lead, yeah, but I was the federal backup on this one. This is all part of a bigger bust, and they needed some muscle on the inside, so I got tagged. Kowalski got the driving job because he knows a hell of a lot more about cars than I do.”

“So this involves more than Mr. Vecchio.”

“Oh yeah,” Dewey went on, obviously excited. “This is gonna be **big**. Vecchio’s just a little fish in a big pond. Bootlegging, gambling, all small potatoes. This could be national! Looks like we may even have a solid connection to the Bookman.”

Fraser had no idea who Agent Dewey was talking about, which the agent seemed to realize. Or perhaps he thought he’d said more than he should, as he reined in his enthusiasm abruptly.

“Anyhow,” he went on, “Ray’s busy with his Lieu, so I was sent to spring you.”

“Spring me?”

Dewey shook his head. “Right. Not from around here. Tell you you’re free to go is what I meant. And we got your stuff all boxed up nice and neat. Figured you might want it, and since you can’t go back, what with everything at the house being evidence and all…”

Free to go. The phrase applied to more than just leaving the station. For the first time in his life, Fraser actually felt free to make his own decisions. He’d always been hemmed in by duty, family traditions, and loyalty to his country. It was more than a little disconcerting to think he might actually have a choice in how his life would go.

“Thank you kindly, Agent Dewey. If you could just give me a moment, and I’ll be ready. And perhaps if I might be allowed to place a telephone call?”

He knew the Turnbulls would take him back. None of the taint on the Vecchio household and its circumstances would follow him. It would be familiar, at least, and he would be home again.

Even if he wasn’t sure it was what he really wanted anymore.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll just go check on the phone, and get the box. You sure do travel light.”

“My needs are few, Agent.” And the ironic truth of that almost made Fraser laugh. He’d never needed much of anything, or anyone for that matter. Until recently. And now it seemed that would also be taken from him.

“Right,” Dewey replied, and left the room looking confused.

He left the door open, and Fraser heard a familiar voice in the hall. He got up to look, and saw Renfield Turnbull talking with some of the police officers. He stayed there, unsure of whether or not to approach the young man, and then it didn’t matter, as someone pointed him out and Turnbull was coming his way.

“Fraser! There you are! Isn’t this all too exciting?”

“Exciting, sir?” he replied, wondering just why the young man was there.

“Oh yes. Don’t you know? I was part of the whole operation to get that scoundrel Vecchio! Well, not from the start, of course. But Detective Kowalski found me and asked if I wanted to help, and even though I’m not American, I felt it was my duty as a citizen of the world to rid Chicago of this vile man. So I told Mr. Vecchio I wanted a chance to win you back, which is true, of course. I met him at his club, after letting the detective know the plan of course, and the police were able to catch Vecchio red-handed. Gambling, drinking and some other things they wouldn’t tell me about.” Turnbull leaned in and gave Fraser a knowing look. “It’s all very hush hush.” He grinned widely and went on, oblivious to Fraser’s stare, “So now you don’t have to work for him anymore. Everything can go back to the way it was – isn’t that wonderful?”

“It is something, that’s certain,” he replied in a daze. Turnbull went on for a bit longer, but Fraser didn’t hear any of it. He excused himself as soon as he was able, saying he’d been told to wait for Agent Dewey’s return.

“Of course, of course!” Turnbull agreed happily. “You need to be debriefed or something like that. I’ll just go back to the nice officers I was with before. Just think – I helped put a gangster in jail. Oh, the stories I’ll have to tell when we get home!”

Fraser saw agent Dewey approaching, box in hand. He held the door open and followed him into the blessedly quiet room.

“Here it is,” Dewey pronounced as he put the box on the table. “It should all be there, but I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d check. Kowalski’ll have my hide if any of it’s missing.”

“He will?”

“Oh yeah, he’s been a bulldog about you this whole time. Said you were on the up and up, and made sure everyone left you alone. I’ve worked with him a few times before, and I gotta tell you I’ve never seen him like this. So, yeah, if you’d look everything over, it’ll maybe save me a chewing out later.”

Ray had been looking out for him. Ray had made sure his things made it to the station, and to him, unharmed. Was it remorse, a way of apologizing for lying to him, or something more?

Fraser dug through the box slowly, taking his time to really think things through. In his mind’s eye he saw Ray giving him advice on his first ride to the Vecchio house, laughing and talking with him other times, fiercely telling him to stay out of harm’s way, grasping his hand, leaning into his touch in front of the house. Calling him Ben, even here.

And Ray had found a way for him to return to Canada. He’d given Fraser back the life he’d thought he’d lost. The life Ray _thought_ Fraser wanted.

Fraser’s heart, which he had learned long ago to turn a deaf ear to, was nearly screaming at him to pay attention. To see the longing in Ray’s eyes, to hear the pain in his voice earlier in the day. To acknowledge the pain in his own heart if he were to leave now, without knowing what was real and what was pretense.

His heart was fairly sure the only lies Ray had really told were his name, and his job. And that neither of those mattered, in the long run.

“Agent Dewey, is Ray still with the lieutenant?”

Dewey perked up at that, nervous. “Why, is something missing?”

“Nothing like that,” Fraser replied with a reassuring smile. “There’s just something I would like to say to him, if he’s available.”

Dewey shrugged and went to the door. “I’ll go check.”

Long minutes later the door opened, and Ray walked in, looking tired and anxious. Fraser thought that was only fair, as he felt the same way.

“Dewey said you wanted to see me?”

Fraser nodded, and gestured for Ray to come in. He did, closing the door behind him, and Fraser almost smiled at that. Privacy made things much simpler.

Fraser gestured at the box on the table. “Agent Dewey was kind enough to bring me my things. I’ve been told you’re responsible for making sure they got to me safely.”

Ray dismissed that with a wave. “Yeah, but you don’t need to thank me or nothing. Just part of my job.”

“Really? Agent Dewey seemed to think otherwise. He told me you were quite… protective of me during this case, moreso than expected, or necessary.” He took a cautious step forward, afraid to scare Ray.

“Dewey talks too much,” Ray muttered, looking at the floor.

“Then it’s true?” He took another step forward.

“So what if it is?” Ray countered defensively, looking up. “You’re a good guy, it didn’t seem right to leave you blowing in the breeze.”

“Is that all it was, Ray? And please,” he continued before Ray could say anything, “I very much need to know the truth.” He looked Ray in the eyes, and hoped the other man could see in his face just how much he needed Ray to be honest.

Ray looked at him searchingly, then shook his head. “That wasn’t it. I mean, it was _part_ of it, but there’s more to it.” He moved closer to Fraser. “I wasn’t playing around, wasn’t pretending.” Ray took a deep breath, then stood straighter as if bracing himself. “Anything I said or did, I meant.”

Fraser inched forward. “And do you still mean it, Ray?” he asked, reaching out to caress Ray’s stubbled cheek.

Ray sighed as he leaned into the touch. “Yeah, Ben. I do,” he replied, then closed the last bit of distance between them for a soft, all-too-brief kiss.

Fraser smiled and pulled Ray into an embrace, which Ray returned with equal strength.

They moved apart just far enough for a kiss, then another. Between kisses, Fraser asked, “Ray, do you still have any desire to travel?”

“Huh? Yeah, I guess so. Why?”

“Well, it seems that for the first time in my life, I’m totally free to choose my own path.” His voice as he continued was hesitant, but full of hope. “I find that I’d much prefer not to do so alone.”

Ray leaned back a bit to look Fraser in the eye. “Well, after this bust, Chicago isn’t going to be the safest place for me. Hell, given how big this thing could end up being, there might not be anyplace in the States that’s safe.” He stopped at that, and his next question was very serious. “You sure you want me around?”

Fraser kissed him in reply, long and slow and with all the love he felt. “Does that answer your question?”

“Not completely,” Ray replied with a grin, kissing Fraser back. When they finally had to stop to catch their breath, both men were flushed and a bit dazed.

“Well, at least if we go up north I won’t have to worry about keeping warm,” Ray replied with a wink.

Fraser laughed and kissed Ray again. Their life together, regardless of where they settled, would be an adventure.

He’d bet on it.


End file.
